


Missing Snow

by Mad_Dream



Category: Snow Like Ashes Series - Sara Raasch
Genre: Cute Kids, Gen, Orphans, Parenthood, Spoilers, Spring, Training, War, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Dream/pseuds/Mad_Dream
Summary: Prior to the events in Snow Like Ashes, a young Mather dares to ask William about his parents who had sacrificed so much for Winter. William, tales ironed out and ready to share, never expected for himself to grow envious of the dead.Warning: SPOILERS
Comments: 1





	Missing Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Meira and Mather are 12 during this time.
> 
> Again: SPOILERS for book 1!

The wooden sword sliced through the air, clashing against the smaller sword with a dull clunk. Mather jumped back, barely taking a breath before the larger sword came down on him again. He held his sword up to block the blow and held the sword above in place. His arms ached from excursion, but he knew better than to complain.

And yet, the man before him could read him faster than he could summon a lie.

"Your enemy won't care if you're tired." William snapped. "They'll thrive from it." 

Mather gritted his teeth. He knew that. He knew the same routine chastises forwards and backwards. But none of that mattered to William. To William, their training was the equivalent of a battle. And Mather could tell from the increasing weight on his arms that he was close to losing.

William pulled his sword away. Mather let out a breath of relief until he felt the ground from under him shift. He found himself on his back, pain throbbing up his muscles and staring up at the narrowed expression of William.

"Sloppy Mather." William clucked his tongue. "You'll never survive a fight like this."

Mather shoved himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing deeply. "I know!" Before Mather could say more, how words died in his throat as the tip of William's sword pressed against his neck.

"No. You don't." William glared down at the boy, half expecting him to fight back. But to his surprise, Mather merely shoved the wooden plank away and staggered to his feet. 

He limped over to a rotting log and sagged against it. His ashen locks hung over his eyes while he rested his sword in his lap. William dragged a hand down his face. 

William strode over to the log and leant next to the twelve year old. He glanced down at the messy strands that had escaped Mather's tiny ponytail. He was growing fast, William noted, and feeling so much despair at the responsibility before him.

"You have to use your weapon as a shield," William said. "Just like a shield can be a weapon, the same goes for your weapon. You have to treat it as an extension of--"

"Of myself and seek out my enemy's weakness. I know." Mather said dejectedly. 

Mather's grip tightened around the hilt of the wooden sword. He forced the stern expression on his face whenever William or the others gave him a task he was determined not to fail. But this time, William noted curiously, the mask of resilience was weakened by tears the boy rapidly blinked away.

"This isn't about your swordsmanship is it?" William asked.

Mather's shoulders showed the faintest flinch before sagging greatly. He dropped his chin to his chest, biting down on his lip.

"I'm sorry," Mather murmured.

William arched a brow. "For?"

Mather swept at his eyes with the back of his hand before the tears could bloom. Silence filled the gap between them before Mather whispered, "Could you tell me about…"

William snuck a glance at the makeshift pendant Meira had woven for him and sighed.

"Your mother was a strong woman. She was resilient in every way--"

"No." Mather said. He forced himself to look up at him, no longer caring for the glaze of tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. "I mean my father."

William blinked as if the question had slapped him. He shook off the initial shock and examined the pseudo sword in his own lap.

"King Duncan," William said. "He and your mother were wed out of political alliance. He served as a just consort to our kingdom." William paused at the disappointment in Mather's eyes. "You know all this Mather. I don't know what you wanted to hear differently."

Mather's grip tightened on his sword hilt. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and looked back up at William. 

"I want to know more about him. Was he a good person? Did he and my mother love each other? Did...did he like winter berries too?"

Truth be told, everyone in the kingdom beared no ill thoughts to the king consort. Dendara and Alysson would giggle at how earnest he was when trying to gain the queen's affections, even going as far as to plant a whole garden of Lenten roses in the castle keep. The guards would poke fun at him for falling ill whenever she was away. Duncan was as honest as honesty could be and Hannah could never have loved anyone more deeply than him. And despite all of his good natured tales, William's jaw clenched tight.

He had made a promise before they fled Januarri. A promise he swore to carry through the crumbling streets of their kingdom, the dying screams of their people, and to the very end of his life. But all of his resolve trembled at the wide eyed expression in Mather's face. The innocent curiosity to learn more about a parentage that wasn't his while simultaneously denying another of hers was almost too cruel to fathom. And more so, to William's great embarrassment, a pang of anger shot through the man. An anger that for a moment made him resent his Queen more than anything in the world. 

Somewhere in the back of William's mind, he recalled a moment when Mather and Meira were huddled around Alysson and Dendara's feet in the tent. Listening to stories of a mystical world they were born to, but never could touch. In the middle of Dendara's tale of mending a dress for a noble at the last minute, Meira demanded they'd be told of Queen Hanna--stating that a warrior queen was far more interesting than dresses. At Mather's quiet pique of interest to learning more about his mother, William remembered the crack in Alysson's face. A flash of pain crackled like lightning behind her eyes just before she forced a smile and began telling another tale. 

Her strength was one of the many reasons why William loved her. And one of the many reasons why it shamed him to do this.

"The dead are dead Mather." William said. "There's no point dwelling on the past. We tell you stories of Winter for you to know about your heritage--your culture--so that you may revive it when you regain the throne. Your parents loved each other, but they loved their kingdom more. Use their sacrifices to fuel your training. You can not afford to he distracted."

The man expected more argument, but was surprised when Mather leapt from the log and onto his feet. He planted his feet firmly on the frostbitten ground and held his sword out from him. His brows furrowed in deep concentration and William fought off a smile. He rose and mirrored the stance Mather held.

"Remember to use your sword as much as a shield as it is a weapon." William instructed.

"I know!" 

* * *

Meira frowned down at the scarf in her lap. She poked at it hesitantly with her needle, adding just enough pressure for the metal to bite into the gray fabric. The needle went through, but caught along a series of knitted knots she had made previously and unraveled the section of the scarf. The girl groaned and tossed the scarf across the tent. 

"'Help Dendara,' they said. 'It will be fun,' they said," she grumbled. "Knocking William and his bossy butt on the ground will be fun."

"Would it really?" 

Meira jumped, whirling around with a series of apologies on her tongue and froze when she saw Mather. He blinked at her innocently while his lips twisted as if restraining a giggle. Meira let out a sigh of relief and sank back into her spot on the floor.

"Don't scare me like that," she huffed. "You could have given me a heart attack!"

Mather let the tent flap close behind him. He snatched the tossed scarf from across the tent before nestling beside her on the floor. The needle, once firmly gripped in Meira's hand, was now dipping in and out of the fabric. Meira rolled her eyes. Of course Mather would be able to see right on the first try.

She had to bite down on her amazement as the fabric was pulled together into a ring with almost perfect knit work. Mather bit down on a loose thread and slid the infinity scarf over Meira's head. She tugged at it, amazed at how it didn't give or tear.

"Show off," she said. Mather merely grinned while picking up another piece of fabric from the pile on the floor. As he threaded another string through the needle, Meira asked, "So, how'd it go?"

Mather froze. His shoulders slumped as he pushed the needle through with more force.

"You were right," he finally said. "He's never going to tell us anything."

Meira mirrored his frown and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We should be focusing on saving Winter anyway."

"Mather," Meira said. "You have a right to know."

"It's not important-"

"It is! You have parents they _know_. You should be able to know who they were without the crown on their heads. You should get to know who they are. Not just what what they were."

The words wrapped around him like cold water. The anger he had felt at William's response awakened, writhing in the icy truth of Meira's words. But at the same time that anger was dulled by the sadness underlying Meira's tone. He set down the fabric in his lap and leaned into Meira.

"I'm sorry." Mather said. "They loved you."

Meira sniffed. "Yours loved you too."

Mather's hand clasped over Meira's and squeezed gently. Though it was a simple gesture, what was silently said between them was louder than words. They were two orphans in the wake of a deadly thaw. The weight of kingdom too large for their tiny bodies to carry. But they would prove to their parents' that their sacrifices weren't in vain. And then--only then--would they learn who their parents were in the history of their people.

"Someday?" Meira asked.

Mather squeezed her hand again. "Someday."


End file.
